


Vampires in Central City

by grimmfairy



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Hurt Barry, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Protective Leonard Snart, Vampire Len, Vampires, evil eobard, fire elemental mick, vampire Barry, vampire Eobard
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-06
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-08-29 09:40:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8484481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grimmfairy/pseuds/grimmfairy
Summary: Prompt: ColdFlash!Vampires, with Len having to take in newly-turned Barry because you can’t just live a newborn alone without a lot of people dying and Len doesn’t need the headache of hunters in his territory





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mockingbird_22](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mockingbird_22/gifts).



> Based on a back-and-forth between me and mockingbird-22 on Tumblr
> 
> http://grimm-fairy.tumblr.com/post/152738623785/mockingbird-22-grimm-fairy-mockingbird-22

_"You're a monster now, just like me."_

Barry ran. He knew he only had this one chance, one chance to escape the hell he had found himself in. He didn't know how long he had been kept in that dark, damp basement, or how long he had before _that man_ found out he had escaped. All he knew was that he had to get as far away as possible. But his strength was beginning to flag, and his muscles screamed with fatigue. 

_"Just one bite, one bite and instinct will take over. You won't be able to stop yourself. To live, you must kill."_

He didn't want to die, but he couldn't...he _wouldn't_ kill anyone. He didn't want to. That man kept bringing frightened men and women down, holding them out to him as offerings, . But he just couldn't, no matter how his thirst burned his throat and his fever rose.

_"I'm going to leave you down here, alone, until you're nothing but a drooling snarling mess. And then, I'm going to bring your father in here and let you feed."_

He stumbled and fell, skidding painfully across the ground until he came to a stop against the side of a brick wall. He hissed in pain at the road rash as he tried to stand, when a sound caught his attention. He looked to his left and saw a homeless man staring at him with wide, frightened eyes. Barry raised a placating hand but the man shrank away. He figured his eyes were probably glowing, and he could feel his teeth tingling with the need to bite. To _drink_. To _kill_.

"St-stay away from me," Barry whimpered. The road rash was slowly healing, leaving an itching feeling in it's wake. His voice though, was cracked and broken from thirst and fear. The man just ran away. Barry curled up, wrapping his arms around his legs and trying to ignore his tattered clothes. What was he supposed to do now? He didn't even know where he was, or what day it was. He couldn't go home, not with...everything that had happened. He didn't want to hurt Joe, or god, Iris. 

_"You're mine now. I created you, and I'll take care of you. You're just like me, I know you are."_

Barry didn't want to go back, not to the man with the red eyes. He didn't want to be a monster.

* * *

Leonard Snart was knee deep in a criminal empire that wasn't even his to begin with. The amount of paperwork and treaties and meetings that went into running an operation like this smoothly was unexpected. He had meetings with the various families of Central City set up for the rest of the week, hunters were setting up shop in his territory, and he had set aside time everyday for the next few weeks for "audiences" with the various creatures that had complaints or debts to settle with the late Lewis Snart, his sire and "father". 

Lewis Snart. The bastard of Central City. In less than a century, he had overthrown the last head of Central City's underworld, ruled through fear and pain and violence, turned his "sister", and very nearly started a war between several factions of supernatural creatures. Hunters had come around, threatening him and his sister if they didn't do something about Lewis, and Len took action. Now everyone was looking at him as a leader, or a target. He looked up from his itinerary when Mick Rory walked into his office at the bar where he was running his empire.

"Boss, you gotta come talk to this guy." Mick had a gruff, growly voice, and Len swore he could hear the crackling of embers when he spoke. Fire elementals like Mick almost never hung around vampires, mostly because fire was one of the few things that could actually kill any vampire. But he found it worked to his advantage to have someone like Mick in his circle. Especially with the scarcity of such creatures in urban spaces like Central City.

"What now?" Len said, rubbing his temples. He had lived for three hundred years, and now here he was. Doing paperwork to accept a werewolf into the city, and ducking calls from humans with wooden sticks. Mick was already walking out. Asshole, Len thought to himself. If he wasn't his only friend, Mick would have found himself doused in water long ago. He followed Mick down into the bar area where a variety of patrons were milling about, drinking and playing pool and chatting in the shadows. His only rule was no fighting. He had seen enough fighting when Lewis was alive.

The man that caught his attention was a cop. Cops didn't usually frequent this place. Mick stopped in front of him and Len sighed inwardly. Of course he had to talk to the cop, who was a werewolf, judging by his stance and stench.

"So, you're Leonard Snart."

"Mick told you need to speak with me. What is it?" Len asked pointedly. He was tired of people comparing him to Lewis. The man seemed to make a decision about him and relaxed. 

"A bum came to the station today, ranting and raving about some kind of man with glowing red eyes," He said. "Apparently, he just...showed up out of no where in a blur, growling and hissing. Said the man was covered in wounds and started healing right in front of him." 

Len closed his eyes in annoyance. There were a few things with red eyes in the world, but only one could move that fast. A newborn vampire. Alone, in his territory, and showing his eyes to humans. It was only a matter of time before he killed someone and got himself killed by hunters in return. Normally, he wouldn't bother with something like that, but with the tenuous hold he had on his empire right now and hunters circling him like vultures, he didn't need this kind of heat. Besides, it probably wasn't the newborn's fault. Sires were supposed to care for those they turned. It was one of their unspoken laws in the wake of too many deaths. The days of blaming the newborns' massacres on plagues was long over.

"Where did this happen?"

Len took the little piece of paper with the address, and Mick grabbed the car keys.

"This is not how I imagined spending the unending years," Len grumbled. Mick snorted. "Filing paperwork and listening to people complain."

"What do you think we'll find?"

"Only two reasons a newborn would be without their sire. One, the sire was killed, maybe by hunters or even by the newborn himself. Two, the newborn was turned on accident. It's happened before, and those are the most dangerous. The thirst can't be controlled if you don't even know what it is. This guy we're after, might not even know what he is."

"What are you going to do with him?" Mick asked. He rarely saw Len look this upset. Then again, newborns were rarely without their sire. 

"Try to contain him, find his sire. We can't keep a childe," Len said, using the old world term. He knew the rules. Lewis had made sure of that. Newborns belonged to their sires. Mick grunted and pulled over. The alley was thick with the smell of vampiric blood. Len studied the skidmarks closely. They were dry, but they would have left one hell of a mark. Len motioned for Mick to follow him.

"He's close, come on."

* * *

 

Barry was in agony. As the morning approached, people were beginning to venture outside, cars were on the roads. The smells around him were so strong. Garbage, urine, car exhaust, animals. Blood.

He could hear everything. It was so loud out here, away from the muffled walls of his basement prison. He clenched his hands over his ears, trying to block out the sounds of the waking city. He could hear...the heartbeats of every person that passed by his hiding place in the alley. He had managed to drag himself behind the dumpster after the homeless man ran away, and now he was just...waiting. He couldn't go on, not as weak as he was now.

A door swung open into the alley, and Barry shrank away hoping he wouldn't be seen. A man threw some garbage into the dumpster, barely sparing Barry a glance. He could hear his nervous system, the rush of blood in his arteries.

_"You're a monster." "Just one bite, and you'll be just like me."_

He turned away, trying to ignore his instincts. As the day stretched on, Barry found himself edging closer and closer to the entrance of the alley. 

_Drink_

He didn't realize it was nightfall until he noticed a woman walking quickly by. She was nervous, and her pulse was elevated. He started to follow, unable to stop. He didn't want to die. Just once, he reasoned. One person. He was following her, easily seeing her in the dark of the night.

Barry felt hands roughly pull him back and he struggled. He had been found! He struggled as he was hauled against a strong body. Hands found their way to his face and suddenly he was looking into a pair of deep red eyes.

"Stop."

The fight rushed out of him. These weren't his _eyes,_ which blazed electric red. These eyes were the color of wine, darker and richer. 

"I-" Barry tried to speak. The man tightened his grip on Barry's face. 

"What is your name?"

"B-Barry."

Len looked at the pathetic little thing in front of him. He was clad in torn clothes that were stained with blood, his own blood, and his skin was pale and clammy. He wondered when the last time he had fed was. Must have been a long time.  

"Come on, let's get you fed and cleaned up," Len said, starting to pull him along.

"I don't want to feed," Barry said, weakly pulling out of his grasp. "Let me go!"

He was starting to panic, and even in his weak state he was strong. Mick was straining to hold him. If this kid, this Barry, got away he could kill someone.

"I'm sorry about this, Barry. But I need you to come quietly." Len snapped his neck. Mick rolled his eyes. "What? He'll heal in a few hours."

Mick just hefted the kid into his arms and followed Len back to the car. It wasn't his place to question his boss. They brought him back to the warehouse they had converted into living quarters for themselves and their inner circle, and Len had taken over. Mick was fairly amused at the way Len was mothering the kid, making sure he was under a blanket and the soundproofing panels were in place. He had even set up an IV to get a little blood into the kid, though it wouldn't do much to slake a newborn's thirst.

When Barry finally woke, he was met by the sight of Len sitting in a chair next to his bed. 

"Welcome back."

Barry swallowed hard, and looked down at himself. He was still in his dirty clothes, but the bed he was laying on was clean and soft. He remembered this man. He was the one that found him and tried to make him feed.

"Who...who are you?" Barry asked. "Are you going to kill me?"

"My name is Len," He answered. "And why would i kill you?"

Barry shrugged and turned away. The room was dark, and blissfully quiet. He tried to sit up, only to become aware of the IV line in his arm. Len gently pushed him back down. The fact that this kid had immediately jumped to the conclusion that Len was going to kill him was concerning. 

"When were you turned?" 

"I don't...I don't...know?" Barry answered. "Where am I?"

"Where's your sire?" Len asked instead of answering. The door opened, and a large man wearing suspenders walked in. He leaned against the wall behind Len. Barry shrank back. "Don't worry, that's just Mick."

"What's a sire?" Barry asked.

"A sire is the one that turned you," The man behind Len explained. Barry looked at him. He smelled like fire. "Who did this to you?"

"I don't-" Barry turned away. Even saying the name seemed like an insurmountable challenge. Len didn't like the look of fear that crossed his face. "I don't want to talk about him."

 

"When was the last time you fed?" Len asked. Barry looked at him.

"Fed?"

"Drank blood," Mick grunted. "He wants to know how bad the thirst is."

"Oh. I've never...fed," Barry said. "What...what am i?"

Len studied him. 

"You don't know?"

"I'm...am I a vampire?" Barry asked. Len nodded. "Am I a monster?"

"Do I look like a monster to you?" Len asked softly. His eyes, no longer red, were a soft shade of blue. Almost gray. Barry shook his head. "Vampires aren't monsters, Barry. People are monsters. What you are has little to do with who you are."

"Why haven't you been feeding?" Mick asked. Barry hung his head.

"I don't want to kill anyone."

 

"Awfully hard to kill a blood bag," Mick said. Len sighed.

"You don't always need a live source. Didn't your sire tell you that?" Len asked. Barry shook his head. "I think we're going about this the wrong way. What _do_ you know?"

Barry didn't really know much. 

"I-He told me that...that I had to kill to survive," Barry said haltingly. "And that...that I was just like him."

"That's it?" Mick looked at him closely. "That's all he told you? What a jerk."

Len didn't like what he was hearing. Barry seemed to radiate fear at the idea of his sire. Something traumatic had gone down and he wasn't sure now was the time to press for more information. He did seem more alert now after getting some blood, but he would need to work on his cravings sooner rather than later.

"That's enough. Do you feel up to a shower? I'll lay out some clothes for you and we'll talk again later," Len said, gesturing to the other door in his room, which led to a small bathroom. Barry winced as Len pulled the IV needle out, but the little wound healed up very quickly. He lifted the blanket he was covered with and saw that the rest of his wounds had also healed all the way. The two men left to give him some privacy while he showered.

"So. What are you going to do with him?" Mick asked as soon as they were outside. Barry wouldn't able to hear them through the soundproofed walls.

"He's scared. Of what, I don't know. But we can't let him leave yet, he'll kill someone and bring the hunters around. I don't want any trouble right now with them." Len rubbed his eyes tiredly. "I have to bring him some clothes. Tell everyone to stay out of his room for now. I don't want him getting spooked and hurting someone. Or making one of these idiots mad."

Mick chuckled. 

"You like him."

Len didn't reply.

* * *

When Barry finally emerged from his shower, he found a pair of soft gray pajama pants with a drawstring waist and a white long-sleeved t-shirt that was a size too large on the bed, with some boxers in an unopened package. He quickly changed, and then paused. Was he allowed to leave this room? He didn't know. So far, these people hadn't hurt him or yelled at him, but he didn't want to overstep and find himself back on the streets again. He wanted to know what was going on. A soft knock on the door took him out of his thoughts.

"Um...come in?" Barry called. The door swung open and Len walked in. Barry watched his warily.

"You've been starving for at least a month, from what I can tell, and if you've never fed before that you won't be satisfied with bagged blood," Len said. He crossed the room and sat down on the bed. "But I can't let you feed on a live source because you might not be able to stop."

Barry flinched at the idea of hurting someone like that. But he couldn't deny the way his throat burned and his body sagged with the need for nourishment. Len motioned for him to come sit on the bed. 

"I won't bite. Come on."

Barry reluctantly did so, and Len graced him with a small half-smile.

"You're going to drink from me, alright?" Len held out his bared wrist. Barry looked at him questioningly. "You can feed from other vampires, too. It's alright, I can handle it."

"What...what do I do?" Barry asked. "I've never...I don't know how."

Len sighed, and he carefully bit his own wrist before offering it again to Barry. The scent of fresh blood was cloying, and Barry felt his teeth tingle and fangs dropped.

"Go ahead, it's alright," Len encouraged him. Barry latched onto the proffered wrist and quickly got the hang of drinking. He was so focused on slaking his thirst he barely tasted anything. His grip on Len's arm tightened as he drank, and he vaguely felt Len's other hand gently cradling the back of his neck. "There you go, that's right."

For the first time since waking to this nightmare, Barry was starting to feel like himself again. Finally, at the gentle urging of Len, he released his wrist. Len smiled at him and wiped at his lower lip with his thumb.

"Better?"

Barry nodded, blushing as he thought about what he had just done.

"Rest. When you wake up we'll talk."

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Lisa Snart was not going to let a stern glare from her brother stop her from meeting the new baby, and she told him as much when Len asked her to keep her distance. It was rare to meet newborns that weren't under the influence of their sire. The old stories of untended newborns tended to be horrifically bloody, and she was curious. From what Len had already told her, something about Barry's turning had been (more) traumatic and he was hoping to eventually get the full story so he could figure out if he needed to find the sire. Lisa, on the other hand, was already dead set against giving him back and she hadn't even met the guy. What kind of sire allows their newborn to think feeding required killing? Old world bullshit, in her opinion.

"I'm not going anywhere, Lenny, and you can't make me." Lisa leaned back casually on the sofa she had claimed. Len was seated across from her in an armchair he had more or less claimed for self at all times. The living area also doubled as a makeshift dining area, so a large coffee table separated them which they had set their coffee mugs on.

"He's not ready to be bombarded with questions," Len warned her. Lisa smiled smugly at him.

"You like him."

"That's what I said," Mick called from the kitchen area they had refurbished. Not everyone in their circle could survive on blood, Mick included. 

Len was about to reply when he heard the sound of Barry's door opening. Nothing happened for a few minutes, but Len could sense Barry's heart racing. Finally, tentative steps on the stairs could be heard until he reached where they were sitting. Standing there in his borrowed clothes, Barry looked incredibly lost.

"Barry, sleep well?" Len asked when Barry made no attempts to speak. "This is my sister, Lisa. She was adamant about meeting you. Lisa, _behave_."

"Hi?" Barry waved at Lisa meekly. Lisa sized him up blatantly, and smiled a genuine smile. He looked like a little puppy dog. And Len always got on her about taking in strays.

"Hello, sweetheart. Want some coffee?" She asked, indicating the insulated coffee pot and the empty mug she had set out for him. Barry looked nervously at Len. "You look like you might need it."

"You can eat and drink if you wish," Len explained patiently. "Caffeine and alcohol will still affect you, without the hangover."

"Oh." Barry looked at Lisa again, who was waving him over to sit next to her on the sofa. "Thank you."

Barry sat next to her, and hesitantly poured himself a cup of coffee. Lisa was studying him closely and Barry began to squirm under her scrutiny. Finally Len took pity on him.

"How do you feel?" Len asked him, looking intently into his eyes. Barry took a moment to gather his thoughts.

"What day is it?" Barry asked instead. 

Lisa gave Barry her phone with the calendar app opened. She had a feeling this was going to be a shock. Barry looked at the date with an unreadable expression before his face crumbled and he choked on a small sob. Lisa carefully wrapped an arm around his shoulders and Barry was too overwhelmed to do anything besides lean into the contact.

"When were you turned, Barry?" Len asked again, softly. Barry sighed shakily.

"Today is April twelfth, so...about six weeks ago," Barry answered without looking up. He felt a rush of panic. People would be looking for him. They must think he was kidnapped, or dead. And how was he supposed to return to them now? He could still feel the blood lust in his veins, just below the surface. He was terrified to even step foot outside this odd sanctuary he found himself in, much less go home to be surrounded by the people he loved. He heard Len stand up and leave the room, and then a slammed door but he didn't watch him leave. He had flinched when the door slammed, and Lisa was gently patting his hair.

"He's not angry with you," Lisa reassured him. "He's just...upset. He knows what it's like to be starved, and for a newborn like you it would be magnified ten-fold. Give him a few minutes and he'll calm back down."

Barry nodded and let himself be coddled for the moment. It felt nice to be treated gently again. He could almost pretend Lisa was his own almost-sister. Iris used to soothe him after nightmares like this. Mick came into the room and set down a plate of muffins in front of them on the coffee table. Barry must not have hidden his surprise because Lisa started to snicker into her hand.

"Yeah, I bake. Gotta do something when you're going to live forever," Mick said. Barry took one that looked like it had chocolate chips in it. Len _said_ he could eat, and he wanted the comfort of something unhealthy.

"Are you a vampire too?" Barry asked. Mick growled at him, in a way Barry was sure he had never heard before. 

"I am _not_ a vamp."

Lisa was full out laughing now at Mick's disgruntled face. Barry felt like he'd just stumbled into a joke but he didn't know what it was.

"I'm...sorry, i didn't know-"

"Don't apologize, he's being an asshole. And you didn't know," Lisa said. "Mick's a fire elemental, a being that is one with flames."

As if to demonstrate, Mick allowed a few small flames to dance between his fingers. Anything larger and Len would lecture him again about scorch marks on the furniture. Barry looked on in awe. 

"Cool," Barry breathed. His eyes had lost the haunted look they had so far carried, for just a moment. Mick couldn't help but feel a little proud. Most vampires looked at him with a mixture of disgust, fear, or hatred, Len and Lisa excluded. Barry had apparently missed the memo that vampires and fire didn't mix. Mick extinguished the flames and lowered his hand. A companionable silence fell over them, though Lisa kept her arm around him. He took a bite of the muffin to distract himself, and though it didn't really make him feel less hungry, it was still enjoyable. Made him feel more like himself. Len returned a few minutes later, his hands clasping a large black plastic tumbler filled with what Barry had to assume was blood. The idea of drinking it should make him squeamish but instead it made him hyper aware of how much he wanted it. Len sat on the coffee table in front of Barry and handed it to him. The smell was intoxicating, and he had already drank half of the contents through the plastic straw before he realized what he was doing. He sheepishly went to set the tumbler on the table, but Len stopped him.

"No, keep going. You've been starved for six weeks and your body will force you to compensate, now that you've begun feeding," Len said. His gaze turned angry, but not at Barry. "Your sire, who ever he is, has more or less ensured that you'll have stronger than normal cravings, and we'll need to work on your control before I can let you leave here. There are hunters out there just waiting for a chance to kill something, and I don't want it to be you."

Barry nodded, and brought the straw back to his lips and continued to drink. The taste was...not what he was expecting. It didn't taste coppery or gross like one would expect. It was almost sweet. He could feel the monster in his chest shrinking again as Len observed him. He was sitting so close, perched there on the coffee table, that Barry could hear the rustling of his clothes.

"You aren't our prisoner, though," Mick said.  

"I know," Barry replied, setting down the now-empty tumbler. "Can I ask you something?"

Len nodded.

"How does it work, the whole...turning thing?"

Lisa stiffened beside him, and Barry wondered what he said wrong. Len took a measured breath.

"You don't know?" She asked sharply. Barry shook his head.

"Barry...did you _know_ your sire before this? Did you ask to be turned?"

Barry shook his head, shrinking back into the couch cushions under the increasingly angry stares. Lisa's hand was tightening painfully on his arm until he made a sound of protest, which seemed to break the tension. Lisa relaxed next to him and Len sighed. 

"The sire has to feed from the person, and then the person being turned has to drink from the sire. Depending on how much blood the sire gives, the transformation can take five to twenty hours," Len explained, his voice guarded and tight.

"Why are you so...mad?" Barry asked, unsure if he wanted to know the answer.

"Being turned without consent is..." Len trailed off. "In our society, it is the equivalent of rape. It's a violation, a permanent life change that was forced on you."

Mick suddenly banged his fist on the arm of his chair, making a muffled thump. 

"Let's keep him."

"What?" Barry looked at him. He wasn't some lost puppy. Len sighed, looking more fondly annoyed than angry now.

"Your sire is responsible for you for the first year of your new life. By our laws, you're his childe. But if he turned you without your consent, I don't see a reason to look for him," Len said. Barry felt his eyes prick with tears. 

"You won't...won't send me back?" 

"Fuck no," Lisa exclaimed. "He can pry you from my cold undead fingers."

Len carefully reached for Barry's hand, letting the smaller hand rest in his.

"Whatever he did to you before, it's over. You're here with us now, and we'll help you figure this all out."

"Thank you," Barry whispered. Len just nodded.

"You any good in the kitchen, kid? The rest of the gang is coming over tonight I could use a little help. These two are useless," Mick said, changing the subject. He didn't want to make Barry cry. Crying was complicated. Barry seemed to brighten a little.

"Yeah, I can do that."

"I am not useless in the kitchen," Len muttered as he stood. "I have to go take care of some business, but I'll check in with you later and bring you some more blood. Oh, and don't let Mick set anything on fire."

Mick flipped him off as he turned to leave, then he looked at Barry.

"Go wash your hands. We're making stew and werewolves can eat their weight of the stuff," Mick grunted. "You can chop vegetables."

"Werewolves?"

"Yeah," Mick said, as if that explained anything. Lisa just shrugged and pushed him lightly so he would get going.

" _Werewolves_?" 

"Yes, werewolves. Go." Mick pointed towards the bathroom. Barry grinned.

What else was real?


	3. Chapter 3

There was an amazing amount of food awaiting him when Barry returned, his hands clean and the mirror pointedly ignored. It was easier to ignore his situation this way, chopping and peeling and cleaning vegetables at Mick's direction. The large man was surprising adamant about the exact amount of spices and whatnot to add, as he measured each of them out into a bowl to mix together. The truly impressive thing (or perhaps scary) was the sheer volume of meat that was currently waiting in the refrigerator for seasoning and cooking. Mick had laughed at the face Barry made when he saw it, and had promptly pulled out the industrial sized slow cooker he was going to use. Len had already been chased out of the kitchen under threat of telling Barry why he was no longer allowed, and Lisa had gone out to buy Barry some clothes.

"How many people are coming?" Barry asked incredulously. Mick mentally ran over the guest list.

"Well, we've got the three of us, three werewolves, the Mardon brothers and Axel, Shawna the witch, and Hartley the warlock. So eight, minimum," Mick finally said. Barry gave a doubtful look at the slow cooker. "Trust me, with three werewolves, we'll have just enough if we make enough bread."

"I feel like you're messing with me..." Barry said uncertainly, leaning against the counter and shaking out his arm a bit. He was starving from the exertion. "Do you always have to make this much?"

"Nah. Normally it's just me and Lisa, sometimes Len if we can _drag him away from whatever he's doing_ ," Mick said loudly for his boss to hear. "Sometimes Len likes to have meetings with his core group. The ones who've been there the longest, strays that Lisa found."

"Axel hates it when you call him a stray," Len called from the living room where he was currently lounging with a book.

"Oh." Barry watched as Mick began assembling the meat in the cooker, dusted with seasoned flour and topped with the broth, spices, and vegetables. "I thought werewolves and vampires were enemies."

Mick snorted a laugh. 

" _Enemies_ is a bit strong nowadays. The modern world has made it easier to coexist," Mick explained briefly. "And the Mardon brothers are tied to Len by a life debt, so even if they were enemies it wouldn't matter. It takes a lot to lose their loyalty once you've earned it."

"Also...witch and warlock?" Barry asked. Mick rolled his eyes.

"Shawna's the real deal, old school spellcaster. Great vanishing spells. Hartley, however, is a tech-caster. Modern technology only. He refuses to follow the old world rituals, too 'messy'," Mick said disdainfully, but an undercurrent of fondness was detectable.

"Again...I kinda feel like you're messing with me, but then again I am a vampire," Barry replied. He paused, his eyes going distant. "Oh my god. I'm a vampire."

Mick knew that look. It was finally sinking in that Barry's life before this was effectively over. His friends and family and co-workers would be in danger if he was around them right now with his urges so strong, and even once he had that under control it wouldn't take long for those same people to realize that he no longer aged. Barry stumbled forward, and Mick grabbed his arms to steady him. Two desperate eyes gazed up at him.

"I got him." Len appeared behind Barry and gently pulled Barry away and back to the couch. Barry sat heavily when they reached their destination and wrapped his arms around his torso tightly. He was trembling when Len wrapped an arm around his shoulders and drew the younger man into his side. Barry allowed the contact, and eventually his breathing evened out and his shaking subsided.

"I'm going to outlive my family," Barry whispered. Len grabbed a blanket and draped it around him. "I can't go back to my life, can I?"

"No," Len said after a pause. "Not forever. You can try to, for a few years, but eventually they'll notice that something is wrong."

Barry sniffled and wiped his eyes quickly. Len sat in silence next to him with a gentle hand on his shoulder until he was ready to speak again.

"Len? I'm...I'm hungry." Barry ducked his head shamefully. Eo- _His sire's_ words whispered in his ears, telling him he was a monster for asking. For needing what he needed. Len raised an eyebrow. The amount of blood he gave Barry should have lasted longer than it did in the average newborn. Barry must be different. Faster metabolism or something, Len decided. He took a closer look at Barry, noting the clammy paleness of his skin and the dilation of his pupils. If Barry was burning through blood this quickly, he would regain full strength within a few weeks. He needed to learn control before then, or his strength would cause him to break things by accident or kill someone with an errant touch. And it could make getting dressed very difficult.

"Alright, stay here."

Barry waited for Len to return while Len went to raid his stash. Mick ambled over and handed him a mug of something that smelled like a fancy tea. Barry looked up curiously. He hadn't heard the teapot or even the microwave. Mick must have heated the water himself. 

"Thank you." Barry took a sip and almost choked. "How much of this alcohol?"

"Lightweight," Mick said instead, a smirk on his face. Barry managed a weak smile and kept drinking. It did nothing to curb his craving, but it did give him something else to think about. The burn of the alcohol was enough to take the edge off his panic though. Len returned and handed him another large tumbler of blood to drink. He was also carrying a large bag, and to Barry's heightened senses, it smelled like apples.

"I need to talk to you about something," Len said once Barry was finished. "You're going to start regaining your full strength very quickly, and you need to learn to control it before something happens."

"How?" Barry asked, looking down at his hands. He was willing to try anything if it would distract him from his breakdown. His emotions were still hiding just below the surface. 

"Well, first we need to work on your grip strength," Len said. He reached into the bag and pulled out a yellow-skinned apple. "Try holding this without bruising the skin."

Barry hesitated before taking the apple in his hand. Any thoughts of this being a stupid test flew out the window when his fingers punctured the skin and he was left with a handful of pulp. Len handed him a towel for the remains before anything got on the sofa.

"You were trying too hard. So far, you haven't manged to break anything because you're not at full strength and Mick has heavy duty knives," Len said, repressing the urge to laugh at the shocked look on Barry's face. "You'll learn to conceal your strength until you need it, but you need to know just how strong you can be. Now, try again."

When Lisa returned from her shopping trip, laden with shopping bags and the wallet of a creep that tried to come on to the saleswoman, she found a frustrated Barry sitting with Len on the sofa. A line of apples was in front of him on the coffee table with varying degrees of bruising and punctures. Lisa shot a look at Mick, who just shrugged. He had been watching Barry practice, and while he had made some progress, the best looking apples were still heavily bruised.

"I see you want pie," Lisa said, dropping her bags on the ground. Barry cocked his head to the side, confused. Len had the decency to look at least a little bit sheepish, but unwavering. 

"Pie?" Barry asked, looking between the three people in the room with him. Lisa rolled her eyes and perched on the arm of the chair Mick was sitting in.

"I can make an apple pie that would make a fifties housewife weep tears of joy," Lisa sniffed haughtily.

"Apples are the easiest way to work on strength control," Len retorted. Then he smiled. "Besides, don't you think Barry deserves pie?"

"That was low," Lisa said, tossing her hair behind her shoulder. "Fine. I'll make your sexist pies. But you owe me. Barry, I got you some basics. Everything should fit well enough and this'll tide you over until you can come with me."

"Thank you. I can pay you back," Barry offered. Lisa just shrugged him off.

"Lenny has enough money to last three lifetimes over," She said. "Besides, it's my treat. Now go change, tell me if anything needs to be returned."

Barry blushed a little, but went to pick up the bags. He focused on being gentle, but he found that he could easily carry all of the bags. Once he was back upstairs in his soundproofed room, Lisa turned on her brother.

"What happened? He looks sad."

"He had a...minor breakdown," Len answered. "It's a lot to take in, you know that."

"Yeah, it is," Lisa said pointedly. "Do you really think it's a good idea to have everyone over tonight?"

"They were already going to come over," Len pointed out. "And the food is all prepared. Besides, it'll be good for him to see that life doesn't end with the bite."

"You think the _Mardons_ are going to be good for him?" Lisa asked. "They're assholes."

"But they know what it's like to lose their choice," Len said softly. "They'll understand."

Lisa still looked concerned, but she nodded. It was true that the Mardon brothers had been bitten at a young age by a rogue werewolf, but they were also an acquired taste. Mark could be crass and was quick to anger, especially when it came to his brother Clyde. Clyde had impulse control issues, and often clashed with people for the slightest offense. But they were also fiercely loyal to each other, and to Len, so she tolerated them.

"Fine. But just so you know, if they try anything I _will_ kick their asses this time."


End file.
